


Gym Bunnies

by antumbral



Category: Gymnastics RPF, Olympics RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Playgirl, The Author Regrets Nothing, photographers, utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antumbral/pseuds/antumbral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They’re in Anaheim when Justin finally snaps and tells everyone within earshot that if he doesn’t get out of the hotel and into a club for a few hours, he’s going to grab the next photographer he sees and offer himself and Jon to pose for Playgirl."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gym Bunnies

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sparks Fly Upwards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/842946) by [antumbral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antumbral/pseuds/antumbral). 



> The quote in the summary is from my previous story, [Sparks Fly Upwards](http://archiveofourown.org/works/842946) and explains in part what drove me to write this bit of crack. The title is a terrible, terrible pun (are men who pose for Playgirl still called bunnies?) and I should be ashamed of myself, except I'm really not.

"You guys are _in-fucking-sane_ ," says Sasha, retrieving his bottle of vodka from Jon and staring critically at the level of liquid remaining.

"Aw, you know you're jealous." Jon bats at him weakly, then lists over to the side so far that he flops over. His head lands in Justin's lap. Justin's pretty sure it was by accident.

"So what do you think, Jonny-boy?" Justin asks, idly scritching his fingers through Jon's hair.

"I think that if you kept doing that, I'd invade the fucking Kremlin if you told me to. No offence, Sasha." Sasha waves the bottle of vodka magnanimously. "Sure, what the hell. Why not."

And that's how it starts.

*

There's an interview with the photographer the day before the actual photoshoot. Justin and Jon sneak away during dinner at the hotel, and meet her in a park nearby.

It turns out that she's short and rather plump, with wildly frizzing brown hair, and Justin likes her on sight. When they walk up, she puts her hands on her hips and stares critically. "You guys wouldn't even have to take off clothing," she says, whipping out a tiny notebook and writing furiously. "We could do a wet t-shirt thing. Lots of white. How much are you willing to show, have you thought about that yet? Oh, my name's Helen. Guess I should have told you that, huh?"

Justin and Jon look at each other blankly. "I'm Justin," Justin says finally. "And for how much we're willing to do, I guess we'll just wing it. It probably depends on how drunk you get us."

Her smile is wicked and pleased. "Oh, I like you already. This should be good."

*

The studio consists of a greyish-white background, a whole bunch of very bright lights, and two cameras, one on a tripod and one sitting on a table.

Helen does their makeup herself, just mascara mostly. It's not fussy, and Justin likes that. He can tell that her attitude is helping relax Jon, too.

"Pick your poison between shots," she tells them, indicating the bottle of wine, bottle of vodka, and six-pack of beer on the table. "But keep your hands off the Grey Goose. That one's mine, and I will defend it to the death."

"Yes ma'am," says Jon smartly, and she snaps a picture of his mock salute.

The photos go downhill from there: Justin catching Jon in a headlock, Justin with his shirt pulled up and half-way over his head, Jon laughing, bare-chested, in boxers.

"Can you get closer to each other?" Helen asks.

Jon steps in and winds his fingers through Justin's hair, tugging his head back and leaning so that his mouth is only millimeters from Justin's bared neck. "Like this?" he asks, but it's so quiet Justin's pretty sure he's the only one who hears.

"Yeah," he replies, because he doesn't think Jon was answering her question when he said it anyway.

It's like a switch flips, and eventually Jon is coyly sliding his boxers off. They kiss, make out, pretty much forget Helen is in the room. Eventually they're just lying side-by-side, exhausted and touching idly.

"You guys are amazing," says Helen, heartfelt. "People are going to eat this up."

*

The spread gets published when the tour is stopped in Dallas. The cover is a picture of Jon biting Justin's throat, head pulled back and body tight. It's really quite striking.

"You guys look good," says Sasha, tilting his head to better evaluate the pictures.

"You guys are _dead_ ," says their publicist.


End file.
